My father's memorial service will be held three weeks from today. I have eleven days to get my act together before my plane takes off, and I arrive in Ohio, at my mom's. I finally got my international driver's license the other day, and I have my re-entry permit already in my passport. I'll get out my suitcase soon and begin to make lists of things to take and what I need to buy while in the states. Thus start the pre-travel jitters that promise to rob me of sleep and peace of mind for the remainder of my preparation time!
The one glowing reward factor--the carrot dangling in front of this old pack mule, as it were--is the thought of the entire family gathered together for the first time in nine long years! This time we'll also welcome to the reunion my first cousin and his wife, someone I haven't seen in over forty years! (We've completely missed out on each others' best years! ha!) So that is an additional 'carrot!'
I am really going to enjoy this opportunity to reunite! My oldest friend from childhood is coming, as well as my oldest friend from my life in Japan. Such blessings to sweeten and refresh this time of grief's closure. May all go smoothly and may my mom's heart be blessed by the gathering of the clan!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Bloomin' Pretty
A friend gave me a potted amaryllis bulb in December and assured me all I had to do was water it regularly and I would be rewarded with lovely blooms. Well, she was right. It was oh-so simple. As soon as I gave it water the first time, the shoot began to push upward, and seek light. I kept it near the sunny spot on my kitchen counter and regularly rotated it so the stems would grow straight. My friend had told me to water it daily, but the instructions in the box said once a week. I compromised and watered it every three days or so. Just look at how pretty it is!
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, EVERYONE!!
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, EVERYONE!!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Foundational Friendship
Yesterday I was blessed by a friend's visit to my home. She lives in Nagoya, 30 kilos away, and made the long drive out to my place in the countryside. She and I have known each other since the very start of my life here in Japan. She was working part-time at the Nagoya YWCA, when I began teaching there back in April of 1982. It turned out that she lived only one subway stop away from mine, and we both attended the same gathering for Christian foreigners in Nagoya, to boot. She had already lived in Japan ten years by the time I came, and was married to the boy from her host family (with whom she lived as a foreign exchange student). Upon sharing our stories we discovered that she was raised in the town nextdoor to my own hometown, back in Illinois! We felt like kindred spirits from the first.
She has been an invaluable help and resource to me in my life here. Initially she answered a miriad of questions I was constantly asking about the Japanese language, culture and way of life. She was a wonderful "big sister" (she's four years my senior). She counseled me when I was unsure about marrying my husband. After I did marry, she and her husband were warm hosts & restaurant dinner companions. This same friend gave birth to her only son the month I conceived my own! So all during my pregnancy and raising my boy she was an experienced advisor and help. I have no doubt whatsoever that God brought us together to be bosom friends for the rest of our lives.
Through the years, we've both had our set of challenges with international marriage, motherhood, teaching English and more recently in combatting disease. Our faith is our one true force for good in all situations, despite the enormous stress that we both encounter in our lives here. We aren't able to meet often, but are so refreshed and blessed whenever we can! And like onions, we continue to reveal inner layers of our most honest hearts so that we can support the other in prayer.
There is an expression in Japanese: kokoro no sasae (emotional support to the heart). This dear old friend is the personification of my heart's sasae, and hers is a foundational friendship, sustaining my life in Japan.
She has been an invaluable help and resource to me in my life here. Initially she answered a miriad of questions I was constantly asking about the Japanese language, culture and way of life. She was a wonderful "big sister" (she's four years my senior). She counseled me when I was unsure about marrying my husband. After I did marry, she and her husband were warm hosts & restaurant dinner companions. This same friend gave birth to her only son the month I conceived my own! So all during my pregnancy and raising my boy she was an experienced advisor and help. I have no doubt whatsoever that God brought us together to be bosom friends for the rest of our lives.
Through the years, we've both had our set of challenges with international marriage, motherhood, teaching English and more recently in combatting disease. Our faith is our one true force for good in all situations, despite the enormous stress that we both encounter in our lives here. We aren't able to meet often, but are so refreshed and blessed whenever we can! And like onions, we continue to reveal inner layers of our most honest hearts so that we can support the other in prayer.
There is an expression in Japanese: kokoro no sasae (emotional support to the heart). This dear old friend is the personification of my heart's sasae, and hers is a foundational friendship, sustaining my life in Japan.
Monday, January 5, 2009
A New Year Has Come
When I was a girl, my parents always got together with a certain group of friends on New Year's Eve, made up of five or six sets of couples. Each couple hosted the gathering in turn, by rotation. They'd have a potluck (the hosts were responsible for the main dish) and a couple of activities were repeated year after year, such as The White Elephant Present Exchange. [For those of you in Japan who have never heard of a while elephant, this refers to a gag gift, made up of silly, unwanted items.] I remember there was one purple and white frog-shaped coin bank that kept getting wrapped up each year and resubmitted into the White Elephant exchange. They'd all hoot with laughter when the new recipient would unwrap it.
Although I didn't have many personal experiences of memorable New Year's Eve parties, my usual routine was to sit in front of the TV, watching old movies and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, straight from the pack, enjoying the silence of the empty house. I'd watch the countdown in New York, or Chicago, or wherever, and go to bed by 1 or 2 am, when my parents would gradually make it home after their outing.
When I came to Japan, New Year's was all about the annual Singing Competition on TV called "Kohaku" which means Red/White. The colors (which represent the Japanese flag), are assigned to the two teams, made up mainly of women (red) and men (white) professional singers, groups &/or bands. Watching Kohaku is like a national pastime (in fact, 42.1% of the population tuned in on 12/31/08!!). People look at you weirdly if you admit you have no interest in it. Many people go to the local shrine at midnight, to either pray for the new year, burn something from the ending year in the bonfire there, or greet neighbors and drink sake to stay warm in the brisk night air. Most shrines have a huge bell they hit with a large wooden pole (traditionally rung 108 times) beginning at midnight. There aren't any kisses exchanged, like in America. It feels more low-key to me than it did growing up, yet New Year's is very important to the average Japanese person.
This year my husband worked the night shift on New Year's Eve, so I was alone that evening. I was busy watching the catch-up broadcast of the first six episodes of "Dirty, Sexy Money" on cable (I hate the title, but am a fan of Donald Sutherland and Jill Clayburgh), and didn't even notice when the new year tick-tocked in. New Year's Day was also spent alone, as my husband went directly to another job elsewhere and didn't return home until quite late that evening. Talk about low key! It passed in a blink of an eye and a yawning gape of the mouth!
But the one thing I like about New Year's is the feeling of a fresh start. I usually make a resolution or two, which are stirring around in my heart and head by the end of December and are ready to be articulated by January 1st or 2nd! This year was no different and I could readily make my resolution for 2009: to become more savvy on the computer. This was my resolution in 2007, too, and thanks to the help of one particular friend, I did become much more computer able within the first six months of that year. But this year, specifically, I want to figure out how to download music, burn my own personal favorite musical mix CDs, watch videos or movies online, and save data on back-up disks, without someone leading me by the hand in the seat beside me. Surely I am grown up enough to be able to master these simple tasks!
We wish each other a Happy New Year automatically, but I would like 2009 to be a year with less financial collapse and insecurity; a year where America's Iraqi involvement finally ends and the middle East can find tolerance among warring sides; a time of reunion and joy in celebrating my father's life at his memorial service on March 21st, and year in which I begin to feel healthier and stronger physically. If these things happen, it will indeed be a happy new year for me.
Although I didn't have many personal experiences of memorable New Year's Eve parties, my usual routine was to sit in front of the TV, watching old movies and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, straight from the pack, enjoying the silence of the empty house. I'd watch the countdown in New York, or Chicago, or wherever, and go to bed by 1 or 2 am, when my parents would gradually make it home after their outing.
When I came to Japan, New Year's was all about the annual Singing Competition on TV called "Kohaku" which means Red/White. The colors (which represent the Japanese flag), are assigned to the two teams, made up mainly of women (red) and men (white) professional singers, groups &/or bands. Watching Kohaku is like a national pastime (in fact, 42.1% of the population tuned in on 12/31/08!!). People look at you weirdly if you admit you have no interest in it. Many people go to the local shrine at midnight, to either pray for the new year, burn something from the ending year in the bonfire there, or greet neighbors and drink sake to stay warm in the brisk night air. Most shrines have a huge bell they hit with a large wooden pole (traditionally rung 108 times) beginning at midnight. There aren't any kisses exchanged, like in America. It feels more low-key to me than it did growing up, yet New Year's is very important to the average Japanese person.
This year my husband worked the night shift on New Year's Eve, so I was alone that evening. I was busy watching the catch-up broadcast of the first six episodes of "Dirty, Sexy Money" on cable (I hate the title, but am a fan of Donald Sutherland and Jill Clayburgh), and didn't even notice when the new year tick-tocked in. New Year's Day was also spent alone, as my husband went directly to another job elsewhere and didn't return home until quite late that evening. Talk about low key! It passed in a blink of an eye and a yawning gape of the mouth!
But the one thing I like about New Year's is the feeling of a fresh start. I usually make a resolution or two, which are stirring around in my heart and head by the end of December and are ready to be articulated by January 1st or 2nd! This year was no different and I could readily make my resolution for 2009: to become more savvy on the computer. This was my resolution in 2007, too, and thanks to the help of one particular friend, I did become much more computer able within the first six months of that year. But this year, specifically, I want to figure out how to download music, burn my own personal favorite musical mix CDs, watch videos or movies online, and save data on back-up disks, without someone leading me by the hand in the seat beside me. Surely I am grown up enough to be able to master these simple tasks!
We wish each other a Happy New Year automatically, but I would like 2009 to be a year with less financial collapse and insecurity; a year where America's Iraqi involvement finally ends and the middle East can find tolerance among warring sides; a time of reunion and joy in celebrating my father's life at his memorial service on March 21st, and year in which I begin to feel healthier and stronger physically. If these things happen, it will indeed be a happy new year for me.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
The Hums of Pooh
I am confident everyone out there knows Winnie the Pooh. What bear from children's literature is more famous than Pooh? He's beloved all over the world. But I wonder if you've heard of The Hums of Pooh, the musical score renditions of Pooh's little songs sung mainly to himself, as his way of thinking outloud. We had this book of music (full of original illustrations and excerpts from A. A. Milne's wonderful series written for his son, Christopher Robin) when I was a child, and I know the melodies and comical Pooh phrasing in the lyrics practically by heart.
Here is an example of one Pooh sang to himself as he climbed way up high in a tree, in pursuit of a bees' nest of honey :
"Isn't it funny how a bear likes honey?
Buzz, buzz, buzz...I wonder why he does?
It's a very funny thought that if bears were bees,
They'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.
And that being so, if the bees were bears
We shouldn't have to climb up all these stairs!"
At least twenty years ago, my brother recorded a cassette tape of my parents reading and singing The Hums of Pooh, which we played often when my son was little. But I lost track of the tape and hadn't played it for at least ten or more years. After my father died last month, he decided to make a keepsake CD of the recording for everyone in our family, as a Christmas present. I received that gift two days ago and played it for the first time just now.
I found myself laughing and crying simultaneously, while waves of nostalgia washed over me. To hear those sweet (young!!) voices of my parents again! And be flung back in time when my son was still small and the reading of Winnie the Pooh, an important nighttime ritual! Or be flung back even further, when my parents read to me as a child, and remember the images those stories and lyrics conjured in my mind! There were only six short hums (songs). I wish there had been more!!
But the CD didn't stop there. My brother and his wife were wise enough to record my parents reminiscing one Christmas, 12 years ago, taking turns talking about their childhoods, how they met, their ethnic backgrounds and answering questions posed by grandchildren about "life in the good old days." I haven't listened to all of it yet, but I know I will enjoy this simple pleasure beyond words' ability to express such joy. It's a priceless gift, to hear again the voice of a loved one who has passed from this world into the next. My deepest thanks go to my brother and sister-in-law for this thoughtful and loving present.
Here is an example of one Pooh sang to himself as he climbed way up high in a tree, in pursuit of a bees' nest of honey :
"Isn't it funny how a bear likes honey?
Buzz, buzz, buzz...I wonder why he does?
It's a very funny thought that if bears were bees,
They'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.
And that being so, if the bees were bears
We shouldn't have to climb up all these stairs!"
At least twenty years ago, my brother recorded a cassette tape of my parents reading and singing The Hums of Pooh, which we played often when my son was little. But I lost track of the tape and hadn't played it for at least ten or more years. After my father died last month, he decided to make a keepsake CD of the recording for everyone in our family, as a Christmas present. I received that gift two days ago and played it for the first time just now.
I found myself laughing and crying simultaneously, while waves of nostalgia washed over me. To hear those sweet (young!!) voices of my parents again! And be flung back in time when my son was still small and the reading of Winnie the Pooh, an important nighttime ritual! Or be flung back even further, when my parents read to me as a child, and remember the images those stories and lyrics conjured in my mind! There were only six short hums (songs). I wish there had been more!!
But the CD didn't stop there. My brother and his wife were wise enough to record my parents reminiscing one Christmas, 12 years ago, taking turns talking about their childhoods, how they met, their ethnic backgrounds and answering questions posed by grandchildren about "life in the good old days." I haven't listened to all of it yet, but I know I will enjoy this simple pleasure beyond words' ability to express such joy. It's a priceless gift, to hear again the voice of a loved one who has passed from this world into the next. My deepest thanks go to my brother and sister-in-law for this thoughtful and loving present.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Reflecting on the Busiest Time of the Year
Despite my birthday falling in the summer, the end of the year was always my favorite time of year as a child. I loved the continuation of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's celebrations and benefits (candy, good food, presents and lots of vacation time listed among those) and the stimulation of the decorations, music, visits with relatives and friends and the many tastes of each holiday. Let's face it, children get all the perks without the headaches of extra shopping, cooking and cleaning, wondering how to pay for this and that, the juggling of who uses the car, when, and the frantic race against time to try to send out Christmas cards before Dec. 25th!
I moved to Japan fresh out of graduate school, and at the age of 24. I was married by 27 and had a baby 14 mos. later. I was thrust into the adult world of "creating the magic" at holiday time while simultaneously dealing with the culture shock of living in a country that didn't celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving or Christmas much at all, and New Year's in a very different way than the US. There was very little celebratory support on the part of society, and my husband didn't have any sense of reverence for the traditions I was single-handedly trying to maintain within our home (for our family's sake). In Japan December 25th is a business day, like any other!
Very soon I realized how much work went into a Thanksgiving dinner, and how alone I felt in trying to stir up some holiday atmosphere in our home, because outside the front door there was absolutely none! Holidays lost their sense of magic and gratification. I was constantly battling the disappointment of my own expectations, brought into this time of year innocently, from my rich abundance of happy memories. I spent the majority of my son's growing-up years, knocking myself out without feeling like it was worth it.
For a few years I baked a big turkey dinner and we all enjoyed the meal, but not so much as to justify the days of preparation and expense it required. No one said, I can't wait to eat your sage stuffing, or, Golly I can't wait to have some turkey sandwiches! It was how I felt, but my pleasure wasn't big enough to balance the energy expenditure. By the time I decided to stop doing it, I resented my family's attitude and had a big chip on my shoulder.
I made an Advent calendar like my mom had made for us when I was a child, and dutifully hung up each day's ornament on the banner's felt tree, wondering why my son didn't show any interest in doing it himself. I played Christmas music at home and in the car for six weeks before the day itself, hung up Christmas lights all over our living room, a wreath on the door, holiday towels in our bathroom. We opened presents on Christmas morning, and I made a special pancake brunch each year. I tried REALLY HARD, and I kept on trying for more than a decade, but no fruit came of it. My son was willing to participate, but not overly enthusiastically. If I cut something out, he seemed as indifferent and uninterested as my husband always was. I fought a losing battle. And I'm sorry to say, it snuffed out my motivation to keep on trying (just for my own sake) completely.
Now, each of those holidays are the time of year when I am teaching my students about American culture. I pull out old photos from my childhood, where I'm dressed up for Halloween, my family is sitting around the table on Thanksgiving, or the presents are piled up under the tree. I pull out the Christmas music to play in the background for Christmas parties, where we all make holiday crafts, or sample goodies I've baked to share. It isn't the same, but it is in itself a way to celebrate the holidays. My church always has a special concert or service held on the Saturday evening before Dec. 25th, and I am busy helping the choir get ready for that, and baking treats to display for the refreshments afterwards.
December is my busiest month, by far. And that's without madly decorating my home, baking Christmas cookies to have on hand for when company drops in, or going shopping for loads of gifts. I bake for classes and church. I teach the nativity story to my students, and lead them in Jingle Bells or We Wish You a Merry Christmas with my guitar. I change my Christmas costume jewelry daily (as all who see it get such a kick out of it).
The atmosphere is more subdued, but it exists. Over the years, Japanese society has begun to embrace Halloween and Christmas with more energetic interest. So it's not as lonely as before. And I'm at peace about it, although I feel sort of guilty that an entire chest of drawers I have in storage (full to the brim with Christmas-related STUFF) is never touched, and a tree is never set up anymore. My husband and I never exchange any gifts, but I do try to prepare some for my son! I have faithfully kept up my tradition of sending out a Christmas letter to a large mailing list of friends all over the world, as well as my students and friends in Japan. And I look forward to the Skype call from my gathered family in the states.
Let me take this opportunity to wish all of you a most happy and gratifying holiday season! It will be challenging to maintain a happy tone this year, with the economic upheaval in the states, but count your blessings and pray with me for new winds of change to blow in the coming year!
I moved to Japan fresh out of graduate school, and at the age of 24. I was married by 27 and had a baby 14 mos. later. I was thrust into the adult world of "creating the magic" at holiday time while simultaneously dealing with the culture shock of living in a country that didn't celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving or Christmas much at all, and New Year's in a very different way than the US. There was very little celebratory support on the part of society, and my husband didn't have any sense of reverence for the traditions I was single-handedly trying to maintain within our home (for our family's sake). In Japan December 25th is a business day, like any other!
Very soon I realized how much work went into a Thanksgiving dinner, and how alone I felt in trying to stir up some holiday atmosphere in our home, because outside the front door there was absolutely none! Holidays lost their sense of magic and gratification. I was constantly battling the disappointment of my own expectations, brought into this time of year innocently, from my rich abundance of happy memories. I spent the majority of my son's growing-up years, knocking myself out without feeling like it was worth it.
For a few years I baked a big turkey dinner and we all enjoyed the meal, but not so much as to justify the days of preparation and expense it required. No one said, I can't wait to eat your sage stuffing, or, Golly I can't wait to have some turkey sandwiches! It was how I felt, but my pleasure wasn't big enough to balance the energy expenditure. By the time I decided to stop doing it, I resented my family's attitude and had a big chip on my shoulder.
I made an Advent calendar like my mom had made for us when I was a child, and dutifully hung up each day's ornament on the banner's felt tree, wondering why my son didn't show any interest in doing it himself. I played Christmas music at home and in the car for six weeks before the day itself, hung up Christmas lights all over our living room, a wreath on the door, holiday towels in our bathroom. We opened presents on Christmas morning, and I made a special pancake brunch each year. I tried REALLY HARD, and I kept on trying for more than a decade, but no fruit came of it. My son was willing to participate, but not overly enthusiastically. If I cut something out, he seemed as indifferent and uninterested as my husband always was. I fought a losing battle. And I'm sorry to say, it snuffed out my motivation to keep on trying (just for my own sake) completely.
Now, each of those holidays are the time of year when I am teaching my students about American culture. I pull out old photos from my childhood, where I'm dressed up for Halloween, my family is sitting around the table on Thanksgiving, or the presents are piled up under the tree. I pull out the Christmas music to play in the background for Christmas parties, where we all make holiday crafts, or sample goodies I've baked to share. It isn't the same, but it is in itself a way to celebrate the holidays. My church always has a special concert or service held on the Saturday evening before Dec. 25th, and I am busy helping the choir get ready for that, and baking treats to display for the refreshments afterwards.
December is my busiest month, by far. And that's without madly decorating my home, baking Christmas cookies to have on hand for when company drops in, or going shopping for loads of gifts. I bake for classes and church. I teach the nativity story to my students, and lead them in Jingle Bells or We Wish You a Merry Christmas with my guitar. I change my Christmas costume jewelry daily (as all who see it get such a kick out of it).
The atmosphere is more subdued, but it exists. Over the years, Japanese society has begun to embrace Halloween and Christmas with more energetic interest. So it's not as lonely as before. And I'm at peace about it, although I feel sort of guilty that an entire chest of drawers I have in storage (full to the brim with Christmas-related STUFF) is never touched, and a tree is never set up anymore. My husband and I never exchange any gifts, but I do try to prepare some for my son! I have faithfully kept up my tradition of sending out a Christmas letter to a large mailing list of friends all over the world, as well as my students and friends in Japan. And I look forward to the Skype call from my gathered family in the states.
My files of past Christmas letters sent...
Let me take this opportunity to wish all of you a most happy and gratifying holiday season! It will be challenging to maintain a happy tone this year, with the economic upheaval in the states, but count your blessings and pray with me for new winds of change to blow in the coming year!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thankful this Thanksgiving for Skype
I just got off the "phone" (conference call via Skype between my two brothers' homes and mine) with my American family. We had a lovely hour-plus talk including two nieces, two sisters-in-law, my mom, my brothers and me. In my mind's eye, I could see every one of their faces as though we were in the same room. I heard myself laughing here and there and swore it was my dad's presence, because I found myself acting like him in a typical family call, holding back and doing more listening than talking and chuckling in all the appropriate places. (That part was a little spooky, because at least three different times my own laughter sounded like Daddy's.)
I had been peevish and off-color for the past three or four days, miffed that I couldn't enjoy feasting with the family, or eating turkey in any capacity as it is still rare in Japan and not found on restaurant menus (and I can't afford to cook one just for ME, at home). I had had to initiate a lot of correspondence to coordinate the time of the call, which would be acceptable to the three different time zones we occupy. I spent a lot of time with Skype turned on, sitting in front of my computer, hoping someone would think of me and want to call. As time went on and everyone's Skype icon was still set to 'offline' I began to feel more and more sorry for myself, making me even more peevish when I broke down and called my son to complain of the holiday lonelies.
But today I was so happy to finally hear all their voices and laughter, descriptions of wonderful dishes added to the Thanksgiving Day feasts they shared, have questions asked and answered about Christmas gift ideas and other family-related issues we discussed...the hour flew by in a flash, and I was left happy and satisfied, as full of love and contentment as I would have been to share the holiday with them in person.
All that satisfaction, and it didn't cost a cent--thanks to the wonderful men who invented Skype in the first place and put it out there for all to use. This year I am indeed grateful to you, sirs! May God bless you richly, as your generous invention has blessed my family and me!
Taken at Thanksgiving, 2005, the last time we could spend it all together
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